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Living in the Clouds and the Footstool That Crash Landed
After ten weeks of woodshop, I finished my beautiful footstool. It was made of dark sapele wood with white ash accents, one of the most creative pieces in the class. I hadn’t taken the course to build a footstool, but to hone my woodworking techniques.
I’ve always been drawn to dark woods, mahogany, walnut, the richness and depth of their grain. As a teenager, I restored elaborately veneered streamline moderne pieces, along with mahogany Chippendale and walnut Renaissance reproductions. Later, in Italy, I was in heaven, surrounding myself with heavy, dark furniture that anchored my apartment. So it felt only natural that I chose sapele for my stool.
But when I brought it home, the small 14-by-8-inch piece felt anything but small. In our 350-square-foot apartment, it carried a visual weight far beyond its size.
Our place sits on the second floor, wrapped in windows on three sides. The interior is light pale colors, white trim, air and openness everywhere. We don’t live in a cozy cave; we live in a cloud.
And the stool crash-landed in it.
After much deliberation, I decided to donate it back to the school. I didn’t want it to become our apartment’s white elephant, something that, once the excitement of making it faded, we would have to store, shift, and work around.
In letting it go, I realized I no longer live the way I once furnished my life.

Living in the Clouds and the Footstool That Crash Landed
After ten weeks of woodshop, I finished my beautiful footstool. It was made of dark sapele wood with white ash accents, one of the most creative pieces in the class. I hadn’t taken the course to build a footstool, but to hone my woodworking techniques.
I’ve always been drawn to dark woods, mahogany, walnut, the richness and depth of their grain. As a teenager, I restored elaborately veneered streamline moderne pieces, along with mahogany Chippendale and walnut Renaissance reproductions. Later, in Italy, I was in heaven, surrounding myself with heavy, dark furniture that anchored my apartment. So it felt only natural that I chose sapele for my stool.
But when I brought it home, the small 14-by-8-inch piece felt anything but small. In our 350-square-foot apartment, it carried a visual weight far beyond its size.
Our place sits on the second floor, wrapped in windows on three sides. The interior is light pale colors, white trim, air and openness everywhere. We don’t live in a cozy cave; we live in a cloud.
And the stool crash-landed in it.
After much deliberation, I decided to donate it back to the school. I didn’t want it to become our apartment’s white elephant, something that, once the excitement of making it faded, we would have to store, shift, and work around.
In letting it go, I realized I no longer live the way I once furnished my life.

Living in the Clouds and the Footstool That Crash Landed
After ten weeks of woodshop, I finished my beautiful footstool. It was made of dark sapele wood with white ash accents, one of the most creative pieces in the class. I hadn’t taken the course to build a footstool, but to hone my woodworking techniques.
I’ve always been drawn to dark woods, mahogany, walnut, the richness and depth of their grain. As a teenager, I restored elaborately veneered streamline moderne pieces, along with mahogany Chippendale and walnut Renaissance reproductions. Later, in Italy, I was in heaven, surrounding myself with heavy, dark furniture that anchored my apartment. So it felt only natural that I chose sapele for my stool.
But when I brought it home, the small 14-by-8-inch piece felt anything but small. In our 350-square-foot apartment, it carried a visual weight far beyond its size.
Our place sits on the second floor, wrapped in windows on three sides. The interior is light pale colors, white trim, air and openness everywhere. We don’t live in a cozy cave; we live in a cloud.
And the stool crash-landed in it.
After much deliberation, I decided to donate it back to the school. I didn’t want it to become our apartment’s white elephant, something that, once the excitement of making it faded, we would have to store, shift, and work around.
In letting it go, I realized I no longer live the way I once furnished my life.

It’s that time of year at The Berkeley bowl

A perfect cut of wood!

Noir city fest at Oakland’s grand lake theater

Claudia, thank you so much for participating in the Place It library workshop in Salt Lake CIty last night, and for bringing your son. Your beautiful blouse was stunning and perfectly complemented the creative spirit of the evening.
A library is a library, but it’s the memories of learning, needs, and aspirations that make it useful and meaningful. I especially appreciated you sharing your memory of learning how to weave flowers into your hair as part of a traditional dance costume, and how your son sometimes joins you in the dance as a charro. Those stories beautifully captured how culture, learning, and family are passed on through everyday practices and how libraries are multi-generational.
Your presence and contributions helped enrich the conversation and the collective vision we were building together. Thank you again for sharing your story and the energy you brought.

Art deco bookcase